


Holding On and Letting Go

by SmoakingGreenArrow



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 04:11:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15788712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmoakingGreenArrow/pseuds/SmoakingGreenArrow
Summary: Oliver is finally home. But he’s not as close to his wife as he’d like to be. To move past the choices he made, both of them need to get a few things off their chests.This fic can be enjoyed on its own, but if you’ve read The Longbow Hunters, it can also be read as an epilogue for that story.





	Holding On and Letting Go

It’s cold when he wakes up. Always cold. The safe house his family has been living in for the past five months is big and beautiful, but it’s not quite a home. 

It lacks the touches that made the apartment in Star City  _theirs_. 

Felicity’s shoes aren’t scattered around the floor. There are no messes or stains left behind from William’s science experiments. It doesn’t hold the perpetual smell of burnt cookies. The two of them hadn’t bothered to put up any photos, leaving the walls dreary with waiting room-esque flower paintings on the walls. 

The only comfort Oliver finds is in the sound of the rain outside the window. Rain in Star City was almost as common as the night. And it offered a sense of familiarity in the unfamiliar town of Hope Springs. The only difference now is that he isn’t wrapped up in bed with his wife, watching the rain as she falls asleep with her head on his shoulder.

Pulling back the throw blanket he’d been sleeping with, Oliver sighs and stands up from the couch. He quietly walks out of the living room and down the hallway, moving through the space like he didn’t want to disturb something that wasn’t his.

Which was ridiculous. And sad. 

Anywhere that Felicity and William were...that was exactly where he should be, too. 

Yet his ‘welcome home’ hadn’t been all that welcoming. Felicity’s walls were higher than he’d ever seen them, and he didn’t know whether to work on climbing over them; or waiting until she wanted to bring them down and let him in. And William...well, he was barely fazed by his father’s return. He was happy...but clearly his son was hesitant to believe that Oliver was really home. For good. It was like William and Felicity were waiting for him to leave again. And he was going crazy trying to find a way to convince them otherwise.

Oliver understood their reservations. He didn’t blame them for being wary, he just wasn’t sure what to do to show them that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

He’d already promised them both that he’d always come back. And then he didn’t. Vowing those words again felt wrong. He needed to  _show_ them. But he had no idea how to do that without a crystal ball that could show the future; five years from now, ten years, twenty years, when he’d still be  _right there_.

As he steps into the kitchen, Oliver flinches, his feet touching the cold tiles. He shivers, quickly hopping across the floor until he reaches the circular rug in front of the sink. 

Glancing up, he notices William sitting at the bar on the other side of the kitchen. His son has a stack of bowls, milk, and a box of cereal out in front of him, staring at Oliver as he takes a bite of his lucky charms.

Oliver can’t help but smile, feeling bad for the exhausted looking kid. But the Queens are early risers, and William is no exception. 

Ignoring the offensively cold floor, Oliver walks over to William, kissing the top of his head before taking the chair beside him.

William slides him the box of cereal. And then the milk. And then a spoon. “Thanks,” Oliver smiles, pouring himself a serving.

“What are you so smiley about?” William asks. “It’s raining. It’s not even 6:00 AM, and you’ve been sleeping on the couch for a week.”

He lifts his shoulder, shrugging in response. “Yeah, but I’m glad I get to sit here and eat cereal with you.”

“Is Felicity still pissed at you?”

“I don’t know,” Oliver sighs. Then he frowns, “and don’t say pissed.”

Rolling his eyes, William pushes his cereal bowl away and turns to look at him, leveling his father with a dissatisfied look. “How long are you going to sleep on the couch, dad?”

“However long it takes,” he whispers back, swirling his spoon around in his bowl. His son keeps quiet, looking back down at his own breakfast with a sigh. 

It’s clear that Felicity has become an important person, not just to Oliver and William individually, but their  _family_.

She is their glue. 

Felicity is the one who had picked up every broken and damaged piece of Oliver’s soul and helped him change into the best version of himself. She’s the one who met William at the painful place he’d been and helped him navigate through his loss. Felicity gave them each so much warmth and comfort that they hadn’t been able to find on their own. William has always been his son. But they became a family when Felicity moved in.

After everything he’d gone through in prison, it was a cathartic feeling to know that William and Felicity had relied on each other. Protected each other. He knew that Felicity had taken care of William in his absence, and that William had taken care of her in return.

“Hey,” Oliver whispers, putting his hand on William’s shoulder, getting his attention. “We’re going to be okay.”

With a nod, William stands up from the counter to put his bowl in the sink, picking up Oliver’s as he passes. “She wants to forgive you, dad.” William says with his back turned. “You just have to earn it.”

The sight of his thirteen year old son doing dishes while he dishes advice makes Oliver’s mouth pull into a smile. “You’re right, kiddo. You’re absolutely right.”

William looks up at him and smiles, pleased that not only had he given some solid, John Diggle level guidance, but that Oliver was listening. 

It’d only been five months, but Oliver can see the changes in the young boy. He carries himself differently, confidently with a more mature sense about him. All of that made Oliver proud, but he also doesn’t want to think about all of things William had to go through to find this maturity.

Feeling the need to let his kid be a kid, Oliver leans back in his chair, “come on,” he grins, “let’s see if you’ve gotten any better at Call of Duty.”

His son’s eyes flash with excitement, and he smiles back. “I’ve been playing...you’ve been staring at cement. Do you really want to go there?”

“Oh,” Oliver raises his eyebrows at the lighthearted jab, happy that at least he and William were taking some steps to get back their relationship. “You’re on. But just so you know, if I beat you every time before, I wouldn’t get your hopes up too much now because-”

He was interrupted by the sound of Felicity’s voice. It reaches his ears immediately as her sharp “no!” comes from down the hall. Oliver’s head snaps up in the direction of the sound, and he jumps to his feet when she screams again.

Oliver moves on instinct, holding his breath until he reaches her door and pushes it open, his heart racing.

“Felicity?” Oliver’s eyes dart around the bedroom, but she is still in bed. With the sheets thrown onto the floor, Felicity thrashes, restless as she fights whatever nightmare she’s having.

“No,” she says again, and Oliver steps up to the bed. “Run,” she whispers, her legs twitching with adrenaline, or fear, or both. “You need to run,” she mumbles breathlessly. “William...William, run.”

“Hey,” he tries gently. “Felicity, wake up.” Oliver touches her shoulder, pressing down gently, making sure not to startle her. “Felicity.”

She doesn’t hear him, her head whipping to one side, her eyebrows furrowing. “No, don’t touch him. Get away from him.”

Leaning over her, Oliver pushes the wild blonde and pink mess of hair out of her face, his fingers brushing over the sheen of sweat on her forehead. Her breath gets shallow, her chest rising and falling in frantic heaves that start to make him anxious. And then she shakes her head, letting out a deep sigh as she whimpers, “I need to fight back.”

He freezes, his fingers gliding down her cheek. “You need to wake up, honey.  _Felicity_.”

But it’s not his voice that jolts her awake, it’s something in her own mind. Oliver’s heart drops into his stomach when she lunges forward, gasping for air. As she registers his presence, she panics even more, pushing herself across the bed and away from him. Oliver holds out his hands towards her, “hey, hey, hey, it’s just me. It’s just  _me_.”

Felicity tries to catch her breath, squeezing her eyes closed and bringing her knees up to her chest. She digs her fingers into her own hair, dropping her forehead against her knees, inhaling and exhaling. “William,” she mumbles.

Oliver slides across the bed to reach her, not concerned in that moment about getting rejected. He runs his hand down her back, gripping his fingers in a little bit, knowing how the contact makes her feel grounded. “He’s perfectly fine,” Oliver mumbles calmly. “William’s playing video games...content with a belly full of lucky charms.”

Felicity lifts her head to look up at him, taking a deep breath. A small, appreciative smile passes her lips. His fingers skim over her back, his thumb absently massaging, pushing beneath the strap of her tank top. He barely realizes what he’s doing until he sees the look on her face; the way she bites her lip and glances away from him. 

Clearing his throat, Oliver pulls his hand back. “You okay?”

She nods. “I keep having this awful dream.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

When Felicity hesitates, he feels slightly deflated, counting down the moments he has to sit there with her before she politely comes up with an excuse to distance herself. She glances up at him, her eyes narrowing as if she’s trying to read him. 

And he stares back at her without a damn thing to hide.

Felicity nods, “Diaz shows up here, at the safe house,” she tells him, her voice low. “William and I run out through the back door and into the woods behind the house. He follows us...chases us into this clearing over the hill, and then he...I try to stop him, but he...he has a gun, and I’m never fast enough.” She stares down at her hands as she speaks, picking at the comforter.

Oliver can imagine the dream. He can see how terrified she and William would be. And he wants nothing more than to make them feel safe. “Hey,” Oliver reaches his hand out to touch her chin, lifting her face to look at him. “You’re talking to the leading expert in nightmares here,” he smiles reassuringly, “I understand.”

Yet he hates the fact that Felicity has been this afraid. For five months, Diaz has been free. And she’s been alone, responsible for protecting William...and he’s not surprised that her fear would manifest in such a dream.

Watching his own fingers move from her jaw to her cheek, he caresses her gently. Instinctively. And he sees the way her eyes soften, her shoulders slumping as the tension fades from her body. 

There will never be a day when he doesn’t adore the fact that he has this effect on her. This calming influence. A sense of ease that radiates from his touch. 

Because she does the same thing for him.

He can feel her unraveling for him, letting down those walls just the tiniest bit. He’s  _earning_ it. And he is more than ready to buckle in for a long drive down that road. Regaining her trust. Getting back what they had. Rebuilding it to be  _better_.

Expecting that to be a slow, challenging process, he realizes how much he really doesn’t care. He’ll do whatever it takes. 

Which is why Oliver is surprised when Felicity suddenly wraps her arms around his neck, pulling herself against him. She squeezes tightly, her face burrowing into his bare neck.

Slowly, he hugs her back, welcoming her into his arms. It is where she’s safe. It’s where he prays she still  _feels_ safe.

And holding her again...he knows for a fact that his arms are just where she belongs. 

There are a million things on the tip of his tongue that he struggles to say. How much he loves her. Every single mistake he’d made that he wants to apologize for. The fact that she’s his  _everything_.

But Felicity moves before any of those things make it out of his mouth...she gently turns her face into his neck, her lips brushing over his skin, light as feathers, but it sends a shiver down his spine.

He feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up. 

For the last week, she’d been carefully avoiding him. Attentive in the way that she stepped around him, purposely making sure not to brush against him. And it had been killing him. It’d made him realize how much he  _lived_ for those small touches.

As her proud husband, one of his favorite things in the world is how affectionate Felicity is. And he’d been pretending he didn’t miss it like crazy. Acting like her touch wasn’t the one thing that makes him feel safe, too.

But when Felicity presses a warm, open mouthed kiss against his Adam’s apple, Oliver can’t stop himself from groaning; starved for her lips, her hands, her body.

Every part of him ignites with heat, craving to touch every inch of her. His mind snaps into focus. On her. Only  _her_. 

Felicity’s hands grip his shoulders, pulling herself closer. She kisses up to his bearded jaw, where he feels her suck, her tongue slipping out as she gently bites down.

Oliver’s breath hitches, his heart racing as he turns his face down to hers. He meets her eyes for the briefest, yet longest, moment. And he recognizes the need in her gaze. For the first time since he’s been home, he can read her perfectly. 

He knows her like the back of his hand, in  _every_ sense...but if this is the first step she wants to take to get back to  _them_ , he doesn’t have a single complaint about that.

With the familiar tenderness of knowing that they are on the same page, Oliver leans in and kisses her.

It’s hungry, consuming, and carnal. He sucks on her bottom lip, having missed that more than anything. His absolute  _favorite_. And Felicity whimpers, opening her mouth for him. Oliver slips his tongue inside, tasting her as his hands desperately grip her hips.

She’s not  _close_ enough.

Feeling the same way, Felicity turns, breaking their kiss just long enough so she can climb into his lap. Her legs wind around his waist, her hips rocking frantically into his. “ _Fel-i-ci-ty_ ,” he grumbles, desperate for  _more_.

The way that she can’t seem to stop kissing him is intoxicating, and he kicks himself for not kissing her sooner. For not taking her face between his hands as soon as he saw her, pressing his mouth against hers and showing her how  _perfect_ she is.

Oliver groans when Felicity’s nails begin to scratch at his beard, her tongue moving against his as she grinds down on him. 

He flips them, picking her up and laying her down on the bed. Felicity lets out a tiny yelp, and he smiles at the adorable sound. But it’s only a matter of seconds before she’s hooking her feet around his back, pulling him between her legs and thrusting her hips up to meet him.

Completely caught up in her, he feels everything else fall away. All of his senses center with hers; he breathes with her, his body moves with hers, and he physically feels like his heart beats at the same steady pace as hers. “Oh, Felicity,” he sighs into her mouth, shivering when she whimpers her agreement, her fingers trailing over his back, as if even their thoughts are one in the same.

“Touch me, Oliver.” He slows his mouth, but keeps his lips on hers as he opens his eyes, waiting until she does, too. As she looks up at him, her breath heavy and uneven, she gently pulls his bottom lip between her teeth. “Touch me, please.”

Not needing to be told more than twice, Oliver slips his hand down her stomach, pushing into her shorts. She groans as he swirls his middle finger in her essence. Oliver slides his tongue against hers, mimicking the pace with his fingers over her clit.

“Oliver,” she breathes against his lips, her teeth nipping at his tongue while her hands grip onto his shirt. He slowly slides his fingers through her slick folds, pushing two fingers inside of her while his palm continues to rub against her. The breathy sound that comes from the back of her throat is so gorgeous, he can’t help but thrust his fingers into her faster, wanting to hear more. 

He can feel her legs begin to shake, her nails digging into his shoulders a little bit harder, and he knows those signs. Knows her body and knows that she’s already on her way, her walls pulsating around his digits. “Oh, god,” he sighs, hardening as he imagines a different part of his body being pulled into her warmth like this. 

And god, he  _needs_ it. Needs her in that moment more than he can ever remember needing her. “Felicity, I-” Oliver hesitates, breathing heavily against her mouth. He’s afraid to say it, afraid to tell her how badly he wants her when she’s already giving him more than he thought was possible...letting him touch her...it should be enough. It  _is_ enough. He squeezes his eyes shut, “I love you so  _much_ , Felicity.”

His fingers slow as she pulls back to look up at him. Oliver settles his elbow beside her head, brushing his fingers through her hair while his other hand pumps in and out of her, curling his fingers to press the pads of his fingertips against the sensitive spot. “Oliver...”

She knows him just as well, “it’s okay,” she whispers as she reaches for his sweats, running her hand over his hard length. He sighs, pressing his forehead to hers as he appreciates the feeling of her hands on him again. It’s something he’s never taken for granted and never will.

But he doesn’t have much time to appreciate anything when the sound of bullets fill the room; loud and unexpected. 

It sends his heart pounding in his chest so hard that it feels like it’s bursting out. Oliver quickly drops his body on top of Felicity’s, letting his weight cover her as his hands fly up to shield her head.

“Sorry!” They hear William shout from down the hall, and then the sound of more guns firing makes him sigh, because this time it’s quieter.

Felicity’s hands are latched onto his sides, holding him on top of her as if he’d even think of going anywhere else. They both catch their breaths, but this time it’s for all the wrong reasons. She shivers beneath him, and he presses a gentle kiss to her nose. “Okay?”

She nods, inhaling and exhaling as she tries to control the labored breaths. “Yeah,” she closes her eyes again. Oliver leans his face down to hers; kissing the corner of her mouth, then her cheek, then her jaw.

He moves his lips over her face, “you sure?”

“Mm-hm,” she huffs, wrapping her arms around his neck. “We should probably get out there, though. I don’t even think we bothered to close the door.”

Oliver glances over his shoulder to confirm, and then he drops his forehead to the pillow, nestling his face into her hair as he chuckles. “Nope,”

It’s easy to hear the smile in her voice as she replies, “I’ve missed that sound.”

Nodding, he knows how serious he’s been. How crucial it’s felt to keep his family together. 

And it  _is_ crucial. But maybe the best way to do it isn’t to beg for forgiveness and apologize until they were both exhausted. Maybe the way to get back to normal was to let go of all of that, and hold on to what was important.

William and Felicity. They were the two most important pieces in his life. Nothing else would matter if he didn’t have them. 

That was the truth, and that was a heavy thing to know. A lot to be afraid of. 

A lot to lose.

But spending a rainy day with his family, after he and Felicity composed themselves, felt like exactly what they needed. 

Felicity stayed in her slippers and those adorable shorts all day. They ordered pizza. They played video games and board games. William told him all about the A+ projects Oliver had missed during the five months he was gone.

It was the perfect day.

Which is why Oliver frowned when the doorbell rang. He’d been on his way to the kitchen, planning on finding something to make for dinner and half afraid that all the food he’d find would be cereal and frozen lasagnas. 

“Felicity?” He asks as he heads for the door. “Are you expecting someone?”

“Uh...” she says from the living room, sitting on the floor across from William, distracted by an intense game of Rummy. “Uh, yeah, kind of, actually.”

His frown deepens, not wanting to shatter the little healing bubble they’d been creating all day. He slowly pulls the door open, blinking up at John. And then he pouts some more, “what are you doing here?”

“Picking William up for Alfredo Friday.” Dig rolls his eyes as if it’s a thing Oliver should know about. 

He cocks his head to the side as his friend nudges his way through the door. “Alfredo Friday?”

“Yeah,” William answers from behind him, already putting his shoes on. “They have the best Alfredo at The Pasta People. Uncle Dig and I go every Friday night.”

Oliver has to smile a little bit at that. Both at the news of John becoming ‘Uncle Dig’ and at the fact that his family had created a standing plan. Diggle and his son had a tradition. They had their own  _thing_. “Oh, okay.”

William glances from him to ‘Uncle Dig’, “maybe dad can come?”

“No,” Oliver shakes his head, still smiling as he looks at John. “You two go. Have fun. I...I’d like to stay here with Felicity, anyway.”

Giving him a look, William nods once. “Earn it, dad.”

“I will, buddy.” He puts his hand on William’s shoulder before pulling him into a hug. “Thanks for hanging out with me and Felicity all day. I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too,” William takes a deep breath, squeezing his arms around Oliver just a bit tighter and then letting go. “I’m really happy you’re home.”

Oliver sighs, “so am I.” He shakes John’s hand and thanks him, knowing that John will understand. This goofy Alfredo Friday thing makes William happy, and it’s clearly something that he looks forward to each week. Not to mention the unexpected alone time he’s about to finally get with his wife.

They say their goodbyes, and Felicity waves from behind him as the two of them head out for dinner.

“So,” Oliver inhales as the door shuts behind them, leaving him in a silent moment with his wife. The house had been anything but silent all day, but he suddenly can’t stop thinking about that morning, the last time they were alone.

In her bed. 

He was really hoping  _her_ bed would become  _their_ bed again someday soon. “So,” Felicity whispers, and Oliver turns to look at her.

She’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt from his mayoral campaign. Her hair is loose around her shoulders. Her face bare. It’s the same clothes she’s been wearing all day. She looks exactly the same as she had ten minutes ago when he was watching her shuffle the deck of cards as she played with William. 

He hadn’t thought twice when she’d come out of her room in that t-shirt. Now all it’s doing is reminding him how this woman has been his rock, his biggest supporter, his  _light_...for so long. Felicity’s eyes flicker away from him as she crosses her arms, looking a little uncomfortable by his staring. “What?” she asks quietly.

He considers telling her how beautiful she is. Inside and out. How she saved him, and continues to save him every day since he met her. He wonders for a moment if he needs to tell her. If she needs to hear it.

And she probably does.

But she also needs to  _feel_ it. 

Crossing the dark hallway of space between them, Oliver takes Felicity’s face between his hands, gently brushing her hair back. He smiles, staring down at her and knowing that she likes what she sees in his eyes. She leans her cheek into his palm, biting her lip. Then he feels her push up onto her toes, her lips parting in the most inviting way. “Felicity...” he breathes her name as he leans in, his thumb caressing her bottom lip, infatuated with the plump, enticing curve of her mouth. God, he’ll never get enough of it. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you again for five months.”

She smiles, “I hope it’s as good as you remember.”

The moment stops, and Oliver lets gravity do its work; slowly drawing them together like magnets. With her, it’d always felt like destiny had a hand in their intimacy. And this kiss is no exception. 

It takes over, causing his fingers to grip her waist even tighter. Her arms wind around his neck and he grins as he realizes that she’s practically trying to climb him to get closer. Oliver bends over, lifting her up and wrapping her legs around his waist.

He’s not quite familiar with the new house yet, so he takes it slow as he walks down the hall. Oliver moves straight for the bedroom, but second guesses himself halfway through, not sure if she’s ready to be with him like that just yet. His hesitation causes him to take a turn into the kitchen, where he places her on the counter in the center of the room. “We should talk,” Felicity breathes, her mouth still on his, her hands gripping the waist of his shirt and pulling him closer.

“Yeah?” Oliver asks, just as breathless. His fingers cup her face, not wanting to break this kiss. Never wanting it to end.

“Yeah,” Felicity groans, leaning into him further. 

Oliver kisses her some more, his hands moving from the marble counter top and finding the ample curve of her ass. She moans when he grips her cheeks in his hands, squeezing each handful while his tongue teases hers. Felicity’s hands reach for his belt, and his head gets hazy with need. 

 _Talking_.

Out of breath, he finally leans back, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his forehead to hers. Her fingers graze over his beard as they catch their breaths. “I love you, Felicity.” He speaks gently, running his thumbs over her cheeks. “I want this life with you. And you need to know that I am willing to do anything to earn your forgiveness.”

She nods, her gaze moving from his lips to his eyes. “I just want you home. I want you to  _stay_.”

“I’m here,” his hands slide up her back, holding her tight like he’s afraid she might be the one to disappear. “I’m here. I’ll do whatever it takes. And...Felicity,” Oliver’s fingers tighten on her back, his eyes boring into hers. “I am so  _sorry_.”

Felicity lets out a deep breath, one she’d probably been holding for five months. Oliver gently slides her across the counter, picking her up again and carrying her over to the kitchen table. He sits down in the chair at the head of the table, guiding her to straddle him. Her fingers roam over the short hair near his ears. “Your heart is always in the right place...” she smiles at him, “even when you’re wrong.”

“I should have told you. But I think I was afraid that you’d talk me out of it.”

Felicity raises an eyebrow, “can I ever talk you out of anything?”

“Maybe not before...but you’re my wife now. We have a son to raise. I knew all of that, but I told myself I was protecting you. I really thought I was. And that blew up in all of our faces. If you had told me not to make a deal with Watson, I wouldn’t have done it. So I didn’t ask.”

The tips of her fingers coax him, her eyes gentle and understanding. Even when she has every right to be furious, she just  _gets_ him. Like no one else. The way she looks at him and touches him make relax, “Felicity...after I came home from Lian Yu, I still felt like a man on an island. I operated alone, my way of thinking has been so hard to shake. I know that I’m stubborn, that I tend to think my way is the best way. It’s hard to turn that part of me off. Sometimes it’s hard for me to  _listen_ because I’ve become so used to relying on myself. No one else.”

Felicity nods, her hands continuing to comfort him. Oliver looks up at her, “but then I met you, and everything changed, Felicity. I relied on you. I wanted you close. Safe. I wanted to feel like  _this_. I started to want things...a life after the mission, to be happy and at peace, to feel like my life had meaning. And in all of those dreams, I saw you. But I was scared. And I still am...but I want all of this. I want everything we’ve built together.”

She smiles, “I think there are certain things we need to let go of here. We need to focus on this,” her hands slide down his chest, her hips rocking into his. “Close old doors and open new ones, all of that good stuff.”

He returns her smile. “Yeah, that good stuff?” She bites her lip, and he grips her sides, tickling her slightly and earning a surprised giggle as she wiggles away from his hands. Oliver laughs too, wrapping his arms around her. She quiets, hugging him back and burying her face in his neck. 

“I think I know what you can do to make this all up to me.”

Pulling back, Oliver pushes her hair over her shoulder, staring up at her. “Anything,” he whispers.

“Shave.”

Oliver hesitates, thrown off for a moment. But then he smiles, a breathy laugh falling from his lips. “Done.”

“But...” Felicity leans in, brushing her lips against his. Oliver tilts his head to kiss her, but she nips at his bottom lip, running her tongue across it. He groans. “First I think I need to find out what this beard feels like when you kiss me.”

Pressing his lips to hers, he pulls her close and kisses her hard. She gasps, grabbing onto his shoulders and grinding against him. His tongue moves with hers. Oliver pulls back after a while, smirking at the red marks he’s left around her mouth and chin. She’s breathing heavily, her eyes focused on his lips, her fingers scratching his jaw. “Good?” He mumbles, knowing that even if she likes him better without the beard, she’s enjoying it while it lasts.

“I didn’t mean my mouth.”

Oliver’s eyes snap up to hers, and he sees the light, teasing look on Felicity’s face. It makes him grin back at her. 

“Oh god, yes,” he breathes, hauling her body against his before he stands up from the chair, heading for the bedroom.


End file.
